Chapter 6

ADRIAN

The scent of roasted venison hits me first, rich, seasoned, and impossible to ignore. I step into the dining room a beat too late, and sure enough, all three of them are already seated. Father sits at the head of the long mahogany table like a carved statue of disapproval. Zeus slouches across from Darian, his boots kicked up like he owns the place. Darian, as always, sits like a shadow, silent, unreadable.

“You’re late. Again,” Father says without looking up from his plate.

I scratch the back of my head with a lazy grin. “Got… caught up with something.”

Zeus snorts. “Let me guess. Another one of your charming ‘entanglements’? Half the female population at college thinks you belong to them.”

I roll my eyes as I sink into the chair beside Darian. “You’re just jealous because you can’t hold a conversation without scaring them off.”

“Please,” Zeus fires back, cocking a brow. “They line up for me. I just don’t waste time with shallow distractions.”

“You mean, they used to line up before your brooding complex scared them into therapy.”

Zeus opens his mouth to retort, but Father’s voice slices through the table. “Enough.”

Instantly, the tension dulls. We all fall in line when he speaks.

I glance sideways at Darian. His expression hasn't changed. Still cold. Still distant.

I dig into the venison just as Father shifts his attention to Darian.

“How’s the defense plan for the Crestwood pack coming along?”

Darian doesn’t hesitate. “I’ve devised a new strategy. During the last rogue encounter, I noticed a pattern in how they break formation. If we station warriors at key elevation points here, here, and here,” he gestures in the air like the battlefield is right in front of him, “we can cut off their retreat and push them back before they swarm.”

I glance up, chewing slowly. The guy lives and breathes war maps.

Zeus leans back in his chair. “That’s not new. I’ve read about that formation before. In the Bloodfang records. Page 238.”

Of course.

I don’t even look at Darian. I already know that twitch in his jaw is there. Zeus never misses a chance to cut in, always jabbing, always desperate to knock Darian down a peg. Doesn’t matter that Darian’s the eldest, the heir. Zeus wants the crown badly enough to burn bridges.

“Then maybe you should go find a book to talk to,” Darian says, his voice cool but sharp. “I’m speaking.”

The air shifts. Even Father pauses.

Zeus scowls but doesn’t say anything else.

Darian continues like nothing happened. But I can see the heat in his eyes now. He may be calm, but he’s not ecstatic about that interruption.

“You’re brothers,” Father says, his voice calm but firm. “Not opponents in an arena. Our enemies are out there, not at this table.”

His gaze lands on Darian. “Your strategy is sound. Implement it. The Crescent Ridge pack will benefit from the reinforcements.”

I don’t have to look far to see Zeus’s reaction. His hand tightens around his knife like he’s thinking about using it, just not on food. His jaw flexes, and there’s that flicker of fire behind his eyes. Silent fury.

I sigh. Here we go again.

“Well,” I say, raising my glass a little. “Another peaceful family dinner. Can’t wait for dessert and the next fight over whose turn it is to be Alpha.”

No one laughs.

Father glares. Zeus scowls. Darian just cuts into his steak with surgical precision.

I lean back, forcing a grin. “Tough crowd.”

This is always how it is, with Kelvin and I getting caught in the endless crossfire between Darian’s duty-bound stoicism and Zeus’s relentless hunger for more.

Sometimes I think we’re the only ones in this family who remember how to breathe without a crown choking the air out of me.

Darian wipes his mouth neatly with his napkin, then leans forward slightly, composure etched into every movement.

“The rogues aren’t just scattered anymore,” he says calmly, continuing like a war hadn’t almost broken out right on this table. “They’re grouping in dead zones, territories long abandoned. That kind of coordination doesn’t happen without leadership. Someone is pulling the strings.”

Father’s brows draw together slightly, listening closely.

“I’ve already sent scouts to monitor the southern ridge,” Darian continues. “We’ll set up a rotating patrol system with smaller, agile units. Hit them fast, move faster. No more waiting to be ambushed.”

I was impressed despite myself.

“Rogue activity near Crescent Ridge is likely a distraction,” Darian adds. “Their target is broader. Possibly us.”

Father nods, approval clear. “Well done. Move forward with it.”

I swear I hear Zeus grind his teeth.

The air shifts again. Darian doesn’t seek praise, but when he receives it, it slices straight through Zeus like a blade. Our father’s favor is an unspoken war trophy, and Darian just claimed it again without breaking a sweat.

Zeus stands slowly, pushing his chair back with a screech that makes my shoulders tense.

“You better hope your little strategy holds,” he mutters, voice low and venomous, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes etched in his face, “when the blood starts spilling.”

He walks out without waiting for a reply, his footsteps sharp against the marble floor.

I watch him go, wondering just how much longer this rivalry can simmer before it boils over.

Beside me, Darian doesn’t even glance up. He just keeps eating, every bite louder in the silence. Cold. Calculated.

Father stands next, his chair scraping back as he gives Darian one final nod. “Keep me updated.”

Without another word, he strides out of the dining room, Kelvin following closely behind. The room falls into a strange, heavy quiet.

Now it’s just me and Darian. Still as stone. Still eating.

I shift in my seat, wondering if now’s a good time. The words hover at the edge of my tongue, itching to be said.

Iris.

The girl with the scarf wrapped tight around her neck and eyes that can’t lie even when her mouth does. There’s something there, something I saw in the way she spoke about him.

I lean back, tilting my head slightly, watching Darian from the corner of my eye.

I open my mouth to speak, but I stop myself.

Now isn't the right time, I think to myself.

For now, the question stays buried. But I’ll ask eventually. Because whatever’s going on with him and Iris is not nothing. And I don’t like being the only one in the dark.